iV 



SONGS AND POEMS 



FROM THE GERMAN 



RENDERED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 



BY 



ELLA HEATH 




NEW YORK 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
182 Fifth Avenue 
1 8 8 1 




Copyright 
1880 

By G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



PREFACE. 



These songs, the blossoms of a distant land, 

Grown paler through transplanting, I have dared — 
Though somewhat shyly, since they must be bared 
To unknown touch — to give into your hand ; 

Tremblingly hoping that they may expand 
With something of the beauty they declared, 
When light, and love, and liberty they shared 
In their fair foreign birthplace. Here I stand 

And offer you my flowers. I therefore pray 

That you should spare for them some sheltered place 
Where they perhaps may bloom. Else, this small grace 

I ask for their poor sakes — 'tis that they may 
Die, (if they must,) with no unkindly thought 
Left in your breast, to whom they first are brought. 

E. H. 



CONTENTS. 



8 cite 

ebvtfiopb fWartin SBteianb. 



%vl$ „£)te ©ra&ten" 6 

griebud) Rfidtcrt 

9Imar»llt$ 26 

2lu3 ber 3agbtafd)e etneS imjmu* 

t$tgen G'rifeufeen 32 

28qx ben S^iiren 36 

Siifjed 33egvabmj3 — 

8te&e$fru#mg 38 

Ofttornefle 42 

item grueling 44 

grueling unb ^erbjl — 

Slbcnblteb be$ SBanbcrerS 46 

3dMfffa^vt , — 

Slit bte ©cfytoalbe 48 

©ute 9?act>t 50 

£ubtt>tg tttylanb. 

Tex 3cbmteb 52 

Sieb be0 ©efangenen 54 

2Balblieb — 

SffgerHcb 56 

ffr&$lmg0a$nung — 

£ob bed grufylinad . 55 

Xte Bufriebenen — 



Page 

Christoph Martin Wieland. 



From "The Graces" 7 

Friedrich Ruckert. 

Amaryllis ... 27 

From the Game-bag of an 

Unfortunate Hunter 33 

At the Doors 37 

Sweet Burial — 

Love's Spring Time 39 

Ritornelle 43 

No Spring. 15 

Spring and Autumn — 

Wanderer's Evening Song. 47 

A Voyage — 

To a Swallow 49 

Good-Night 51 

Ludwig Uhland. 

The Smith 53 

Song of the Captive 55 

Forest Song. . . — 

Hunting Song 57 

Spring's Presage — 

Praise of Spring. . 59 

Contented — 



8 cite 



Sin Ste 60 

Untwort 62 

Sebct»cM — 

3n ber gerne 64 

3)er ttei§e £trid> — 

Die brei Sieber : — 68 

©it ScMummernbe TO 

(Seller £ob — 

2luf ben £ob eineS tfinbeS 72 

9?ad>tretfc — 

©reiienrcorte 74 

£etnrtcb £eine- 

SDer 3tmmermcmn 76 

£em£er$cben — 

3m 2tfonat2ttat 78 

gruMtttijSlteb — 

9?ad>t3 in ber ^ajitte 80 

Die ©pracbe ber £tebe 82 

SBafferfabrt 84 

3)cr Stern ber Stcbe 82 

3m ©rab 88 

Der ©owdganger 94 

SBergjlimme — 

51 b albert ton (lb a mi fie. 

^)o*jeitlieber 98 

Robert Kcitticf. 

durtcte ©eicHcbte 102 

Sfyeobor Corner, 
©tanbcben 106 



Page 

j To Her 6i 

| An Answer 63 

Farewell — 



Far Away • • . 65 

The Snow-white Stag — 

The Three Songs 69 

Asleep 71 

Happy Death — 

On the Death of a Child 73 

I A Night Journey — 

Grown Old 75 

Heinrich Heine. 
The Carpenter 77 

j No Heart — 

In the Month of May 79 

I Spring Song — 

Nights in the Cabin 81 

Love's Language 83 

On the Water 85 

j The Star of Love 87 

In the Grave 89 

The Spectre 95 

j The Echo — 

Adalbert von Chamisso. 

I Wedding Songs 99 

Robert Reinick. 

A Curious Story 103 

Theodore Korner. 

j vSerenade 107 



%n$ „3)te ©rajicn 

2lud}, fyatte nicfyt ber 2ftater unb ^oet 
®a$ Sfocfjt, in y $ ©cfybnere ju ntalen, 
2Bo btiebe bie Sftagie beS fdfyonen ^beaten, 
©a§ Uebermenfcfylidfye, tocoon bie 2Berfe ftrafyten, 
93or benen fttEt entjiicft ber ernfte tenner ftet>t ; 
2)er 9?eij, tooju bie rofye 2Jfajeftat 
Unb (Sinfalt ber 9?atur ba$ Urbitb nie gegeben, 
2)tc ®anaen, bie ©alatfyeen unb £>eben ? 

3fyr ganjeS ^eben tft ©eniegen ! 

©ie rotfjen nicfyt, (beglitcft, e$ nid)t ju tmffen !) 

®a§ auger ifyrem ©tanb ein glucftid) Seben fei; 

Unb traumen, fc^erjen, fingen, fiiffen 

3fyr 2)afein unuermerft Dorbei. 



CHRISTOPH MARTIN WIELAND. 

From " The Graces.'' 
Of the Ideal 
Had not the painter's and the poet's thought 
The power to paint a beauty more than fair, 
Where were the magic of the Ideal ? Where 
The Immortal, whose clear rays all work may share, 
Before which stand entranced, who there are brought; 
The subtle charm that never yet was wrought 
By the untutored might of Nature, of which ye be 
The types, O Danae, Galatea, and Hebe ! 

The People of the Golden Age. 
Their life was nothing more than pleasure ! 
They knew not (ignorance, thou treasure ! ) 
That happiness beyond their sight might lie ; 
They dreamed, and kissed, and sang in tuneful measure, 
Until their life, unfelt, had hurried by. 



8 



(£fyrifto^ ajtorttn 2BteIanb. 



Dcr ©deafer, ber Sfytoen$ Siiften 

SSon SiebeSfcfytnerjen fyalb entfeelt 

3fyr fetne Setben fcorgejafylt, 
©ebrofyt, er roerbe fterben miiffen, 

©efeufjt, getoetnt, imb ftetS ifyr £>erj fcerfetjlt, 

2Btrb plo^licfy rufyn, fangt an ju liiffen; 
Unb fie, anftatt auf (Stnen 33ticf 
3fyn, toie er tuafynte, tobt ju fd^iegen, 

3)refyt lacfyetnb fic£> fcon feinen Stiffen, 
Unb giebt fie enbttd) gar — jnriicf . 

£>tyajtntfyen, 8otu3, 33ioIetten, 

£rieb bte (Srbe, Sltnorn fanft jn betten, 

Unter tfym fyer&or, 
O! nne fd)i3n er tag! bte t 23tumen fytelten, 
©letcfy alS ob fie feme ©otttyeit fiifytten, 

gebern gteicb ben ©cfylafenben empor. 



CHRIS TOP II MARTIN WIELAND. 



Chloe. 

At Chloe's feet the shepherd lying 

Wrapped with love's pangs in many a fold, 
To her his heavy sorrows told, 

And bitterly he spake of dying. 

And sighed and wept, but still her heart was cold 

Then sudden ceased, and fell to kisses, 

And she, who with a look had slain 
Him as he lay, (what folly this is !) 
But laughing turned her from his kisses, 

And then — she gave them back again ! 

Love Sleeping. 
Lotus, hyacinth, and violet shy 
Decked the earth, that Love might sweetly lie 

Sleeping on its breast ; 
Oh ! how fair he was ! The flow rets seemed 
To know a god upon their petals dreamed, 

As he on softest down might sleep and rest. 



©c^ttcftcrn, (rief fie, bod) nur nut fyalber ©timme, 

tint ben fleinen ©drfafer nid)t auf juroecfen) 

2!3a3 id) fet)e! O ©d)toeftern, i>elft tnir fefyen! 

Sin — it>ie nenn' idj$ ? — Kein 9J?abdjen, bod) fo lieblid^ 

21(6 ba$ fdjonfte 5Dcabd)en, nut gotbnen gliigeln 

2ln ben rnnben liftenmeiften @d)uttern. 

2luf ben 3Stumen liegt e$, tote ©ommerbogel 

©id) auf "©lumen tmegen! 3n enerm Seben 

£>abt il)x fo ma§ IiebIid)eS nid)t gefefyen. 

„2Bte fd)im e8 tft! 2Bte rotf) fern fletner Sttunb! 
Die gelben Socfen nne frauS! ©ein metier 2lrm n>ie 
runt) ! 

© fet)t! e$ lacbett ttn ©d)Iaf! — Unb (§riibd)en in beiben 
SBangen 

Unbent eS (ad)elt, — 2lglaja, xoix miiffen e$ fangen, 
(Sf) ? eg ern?ad)t unb unS entfttegt!" — @§ fangen, 



CHRISTOPH MARTIN WIELAND. 



Pasithea discovers the Sleeping Love. 

" Sisters ! " (so she called, with half a whisper, 

That she should not wake the little sleeper) 

" Oh ! what see I ? Sisters, help me see it ! 

Tis — what shall I say ? No maid, yet fairer 

Than fairest maidens are — with golden pinions 

Folded to his rounded, lily-shoulders ; 

Like a butterfly he lies upon the blossoms, 

On the blossoms cradled. Ye have ne'er, my sisters, 

Seen upon the earth so fair a picture. " 

The Sisters propose to make a plaything of Love. 

" How fair he is ! His mouth, how red a rose ! 
How crisp his yellow curls ! How round his white arm 
shows ! 

Oh ! see, he laughs in his sleep ! In his cheeks the dim- 
ples declare him 
Laughing, in truth ! Aglaia, we must ensnare him 
Ere he awake and fly away ! " " Ensnare him ! 



(£f)rifto}>£) Martin Stelanb. 



3)u fteine 9?arrin ! unb xoa$ 

3)amit madjen? — 933eld^e grag' tft ba$! 

Kurjroeit, liebe ©cfytoefter, fo!T3 un3 madden, 
9Jiit nn$ fpielen, fcfyerjen, ftngen, ladjen, 
©dfymeftern, tnetnt tfyr nicbt? 



„2ldfy ©cfytoeftern, toenn e$ 2lmor toare? 

303 te toiirb' e$ un$ ergefyn!" 

5ftein, ^afttfyea, nein ! 3nm Sl^ior ift'3 jufcfyon! 

2Bo fyaft bu em ©eficfytcfyen gefefyn 
33Bte bie3? @S tnacfyte bem fcfyonften SMbcfyen (Sfyre 

®cr fteine ©radje foflf e§ fein, 
33on bem bie TOutter fprid)t, er nafyre 

SSon TOdbcfyenfyerjen fid) ? 9?etn ^afitfyea, neut! 
(5$ fdjredte, roenn e§ 5ltnor toare; 

Unb bie§ ift lauter 9teij: e3 fann ntc^t winter fein! 



CHRISTOPH MARTIN WIELAND. 

Thou foolish sister ! And caught — 
What then ? The idle thought ! " 

" For a plaything, sister, let us take him, 

Sing, and sport and laugh, and play we'll make him, 

Sisters, shall it be ? " 



Pasithea discovers Loves Quiver. 

" Oh ! were it Love who there is lying, 

What would befall us here ! " 

" Pasithea, no ! For Love it is too fair, 

No face like his who sleepeth there 
Canst find ; its beauty the fairest maiden's defying." 

"'The naughty sprite may it not be, 

Of whom our mother tells, thus trying 
To steal our hearts ? " ' ' Pasithea, 'tis not he ; 

'Twould fright us — Love there lying, 
And see how rare his charms ! Oh ! Love this cannot be ! 99 



14 



(S&rifiopfc aRarttu SBielcmb-. 



2Bie, toenn fair ifyn tnit 23Iutnen banben ? 

3fyn urn unb urn an 2lrm unb 33etn 

Wit geffetn fcon (Spfyeu unb 9iofen umttKinten ? 

®ann mbd)f e$ immer 2lmor fetn! 

(Sr mi5d)te jappeln, toiitfyen, traun, 

2Bir fatten ifyn in unfern £)anben! 

2Btr toiirben feme ^3fette jerbredjen, 

Unt> iiegen ifyn nicfyt fret; er miigf un§ erft fcerfprecfyen, 

gromm tme ein Samm ju fein. 



©cfyone 9fytnfen, o fyelft mir armen £naben! 

i'aufet nid)t bat>on! 
3d) bin 9lmor, StytfyeraenS @efyn, 

®er fid) in euerm £>ain fcerlief. 
gaunen miiffen mid) fo gebunben fyaben, 

®a td) unbeforgt in meiner Unfdjutb fd)Iief. 



CHRIS TOP II MARTIN WIELAND. 



I 



The Sisters propose to bind Love. 

Oh ! what if we with flowers should bind him ? 

Round arm and foot right skilfully ? 
With fetters of ivy and roses should wind him, 

And then he safely Love might be ! 

Struggle and menace, and turn might he. 
Sisters, secure in our hands he'd find him ; 

We would break his arrows and throw them from us,- 

And not let him loose ; and, more, he must promise 
Quiet as a lamb to be ! 

Love, waking, calls for help. 

Beauteous nymphs ! Oh ! help, since ye have found me ! 

Pity ! Do not run ! 

I am Love, fair Cytherea's son, 

Who has lost him in your forest deep ; 
And the Fauns, methinks, must so have bound me, 

While I innocently lay asleep. 



(S&rifto^ ajforttn Stelanb. 



„5Qteine ^feile miigt ifyr erft jerbredjen? 
Unb »a8 tf)at id) eucfy ? 
3ft eud) tieben ein fo grog SSerbrecfyen ? 
®od), jerbred)t fie nur, e$ gilt mir gleid)! 
Sann id) bod) mit euern fd)onen 93licfen 
©tatt ber ^feile meinen Socfyer fcfymitcfen!'' 



SSon eud) ju fdjeiben begefyren? 
3d) tniigte ntcfet SiebeSgott fein! 
@ud) liefe' id) im toilben §ain 
93ei gaunen unb ^)irten allein, 
5ftad) ^afoS toieberjufetyren ? 
S^etu, fyotbe @d)toeftern, nein ! 
3fyr feib fo reijenb, Sfytfyeren 
9?td)t einjig anjugefyoren ! 
3d} fiifyr' eud) bei ifyr ein, 
Urn ifyren £)of ju kermetjren, 
Unb ifjre ©efpiettn ju fein. 



CHRISTOPH MARTIN WI ELAND. 



Love offers his Arrows to the Sisters. 
My arrows, first, ye must break forever ? 

What have I done, that ye 
Would do me this wrong ? Greater knew I never. 
But break them, indeed — 'tis naught to me ; 
The shafts that from your bright eyes shiver, 
Instead of arrows, shall fill my quiver. 

Love proposes to take the Sisters to Paphos. 
To part from your embraces 
I were no god of love ! 
To leave you alone in the grove 
Where Fauns and Shepherds rove, 
To return to Paphos'' places ! 

No ! Swear I by all above ! 
E'en Cytherea's face is 
Not half so fair as the Graces ! 

I'll take you, your beauty to prove, 
To her court that all beauty encases, 
''Mid her maidens ye shall move. 



(£f)rifto£f) aftarttn SSielanb. 



2Ba§ toir bit fiir etnen 25cgel bringen! 

SBeldje Sodcn! 2Ba$ fiir fcfyone Sdmnngen! 

Unb ctn 9Jiab$enge[id)t! 

Slcmn er bit nur fyalb fo Iteblid) ftngen, 

2113 er liebltd) fyrtdjt, 

£), fo fafyft bu f etnen fcfybnern ntd)t! 

2Ba3 toir bir fiir einen 93ogel bringen! 

©elbe, fraufe Soden, gclbne ©cfytoingen, 

Unb eitt s JJiabd)engefid)t! 

9?icftt ber bbfe, ungeftiime, toitbe, 
£)er bte 9J?abd>en frtgt! 
2Riitterdjen, e3 ift 

©anj ein anbrer, ladjenb, fanft unb milbe. 
2tuf ben 231umen im ©efilbe 



CHRISTOPH MARTIN WIELAND. 19 

The Graces carry Love in a Basket of Flowers to their Foster - 

Mother. 

Thalia speaks. 

See the lovely bird thy daughter brings thee ! 
See his curls ! His tiny, golden wings, see ! 

And his maiden mien ! 
If but half so sweetly sings he 

As he speaks, I ween 

Never aught so fair hast seen ! — 
See the lovely bird thy daughter brings thee ! 
Yellow, crisped curls, and golden wings, see, 

And his maiden mien ! 

Pasithea defends Love. 

Not the wicked Love, blustering, and rude and wild, 

Maidens who devours ! 

No, this Love of ours 
Quite other is, smiling, and soft, and mild. 
On a couch with blossoms piled, 



Sfyrtftotf) SWarttn SBtelanb. 



i?ag er fcfylumnternb ba; 

Unb mx banben tljn mit 231mnenfetten, 

(g^ er ftcp fcerfal?. 

D! tote bat er un$! TOeht totr fatten, 

2lte er fagte, baft er 2lmor fet, 

3t)tt ntdfyt log getnacfyt, tmeroofyl nnr bret, 

(Sr nur etnjetn tear; — er tnuftt' un$ fcfyrooren, 

Sty' er feme 9lrme fret befam, 

Un$ fern Setb ju ttjun, unb fromm ju fetn unb jafy 

Unb er fd)toor'§! eS toar rec^t f cf^btt ju fyoren! 

Unb ate ob ttnr feine @cfyt»e|'tern roaren, 

£tebt er un8, unb fiifyrt un$ bet Stytfyeren, 

©etner 9Jf utter, etn; 

Unb mx fotten, toemt tr>tr arttg toaren, 

Sfyre SDlabdjen fetn! 



CHRIS TOPH MARTIN WIELAND. 

Fast asleep lay he, 
And we bound him safe with a flowery chain 

Ere he aught did see. 
Oh ! then, how he plead ! Alone, 'tis plain, 

When he told us he was Amor, we 

Would not have loosed him ; but then we were three, 
He only one ! We said that he must swear it, 

Ere his arms could be set free, 

Never harm to do us, gentle and tame to be ! 
And he swore. Oh ! sweet it was to hear it ! 

It seemed his sisters he would gladly make us, 

He loved us so ! To Cytherea would take us — 
His mother, she — 

And were we good, her maidens she would make us, 
We'd dwell there merrily ! 



22 



(£f?rtfto^ Martin SBtelanb. 



©te fag auf 93tumen unb 9JJoo§ 

$n fdfyiJnen ©ebanfen fcerloren. 

@itt frifdjer 9?otI?, ate 2turoren 

3n junger Sftofen ©cfyooft 

(Sntgegen gtanjt, um%0Q t^r liefeltcfce^ Oefic^t. 

@te fcfyien jum erftett 9J?al ju fiiljlen, 

Unb fafy — ganj Sluge — nidfyt 

3)en §trten; neht, bie fdjonen Slugen jtelen 

9lad) einem 91ft, too un&erljiillt 

SSom jmtgen 8aub, jtoet fanfte £aub(fyen 

fficr fcfjihten Stebe fd&Bnfte* 93tlb! 



CHRIS TOPH MARTIN WIEIAND, 23 
Phyllis. 

On a mossy and blossoming bed, 

She sat, lost in happiest dreaming, 
A tender flush, as the gleaming 

Of gracious Aurora might shed 
In the heart of a rose — upon her cheek did play. 

She seemed for the first time to waken 
And saw — oh ! pleasure — nay, 

Xo shepherd, for her shining eyes had taken 
Their way to where a rustling bough did sway, 

Showing two cooing doves, when the young leaves 
were shaken, 

Of sweetest love the sweetest image they ! 



24 



iprtfto^ SRartut SBtelanb. 



— §alb gautt, fyalh Stebe^gott, 
2)er flatterljaft urn aHe Stinnett fdjerjet, 
Um aHe buljlt, bod; ttur bte fcf^Bttften fyerjet, 
Unb, baft fetn Hemes §orn bte ^tymfen ntcfyt erfc^rectt 
(g$ mtter #?ofett fdjtatt t>erftecft. 



CHRIS TO PH MARTIN WIELAND. 



Loves Playfellow. 
— Half Faun, half Amor, he 
Who, fluttering, with all the blossoms playeth, 
And woos them all— but with the fairest stayeth ; 
And, lest his tiny horn the nymphs might scare, 
He hideth it among the roses there. 



L ftki>rid) litckert. 



©age mtr nur nid)t toittfommen, 
©age mtr nur nid)t abe! 
8aff mid) fommen, toamt id) fomme, 
Saff mid) gefyen, toamt td) gel)\ 

$fttd)t tcenn bu mid) fommen fieljeft, 
Stebfte, fcrnm' id) I)er ju btr; 
3mmer fd)on bet bir gebtieben 
3ft mem §erj t>on geftern I)ter. 

Unb nid)t toatm bu gefyu mid) fie^eft, 
©el)' id), fonbent ftetS im ©eift, 
£tebfte! bleib' id) bort in beiner 
gammer, ofyne bag bu'§ tr>etgt. 



FRIEDRICH RUCKERT. 



AMARYLLIS. 



Only do not bid me welcome, 

Bid me not farewell, I pray. 

When I come, oh ! let me come, love, 

Let me go when go I may. 
Not when thou dost see my coming, 

Do I come unto thee, dear ; 

Silently beside thee resting 

Is my heart since morning here ! 
And not when thou seest my going, 

Do I go — in spirit I, 

Dearest heart, am watching o'er thee, 

And thou dost not know me nigh. 



grtebrid; Dfiidert 

VI 

2Bie etn ©cufjer ifyr entjc^Iiipft, 
Unb id) frage: 2Bofyinau3? 
©priest fie: gteid^ in$ nad;fte §au$. 
£) tme fyat tnein §erj gefyityft; 
£)etm fie fyat e3 tr>ol)l gettmgt, 
3fyr junadfyft fei meine 93ruft. 

X 

2BeU id) bid} nid)t legen fatin 

Unter ©dfyloft unb 9ftegel, 

Dir jum 2lBfd)ieb leg' id} an 

®iefe fieben ©iegel. 
Jfilffc foden ©ieget fein, 

(Sitter auf bie Stppe, 

©aft am 9?ettarfelcfye fetn 

§ontgbteb mir nippe! 
©iefeS ©iegel auf bie SBruft, 

2luf ben Deaden btefeS; 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 



VI 

When a sigh was breathed apart, 

And "Whence comes it?" questioned I, 
" From next door it passes by," 
Answered she. Oh ! how my heart 
Leaped for joy ! My dear one guessed 
Well, for nearest was my breast. 

x 

Since as yet I cannot lay 

Thee under lock and key, dear, 

Lay I, ere farewell I say, 

Seven seals on thee, dear. 
Kisses are the seals alone, 

One upon thy lip, dear, 

From its nectar cup, that none 

May my honey sip, dear. 
Then this seal upon thy breast, 

On thy neck this lies, dear, 



griebrid) 9?ii(fert 



grember SBunfcfy fei fern ber Suft 
9TCetne$ ^arabiefeS! 
^wete nod) auf SBang' unb 2Bang' 
Unb auf 5lug* unb 2luge: 
3)afj fetn Sftunb banadfy fcerlang', 
Unb fetn SBttcf fyier fauge! 
i?iete^ Sinb, urn beine ©cfyulb 
S£rag' bie ©iegel in ©ebulb! 
5D?orgen tooHen tint bie fecfen 
©ieben Sieget toteber lofen. 



FRIEDRICH RUCKERT. 



That no stranger wish be blest 

In my paradise, dear. 

Now on cheek and cheek two more, 
Two on eye and eye, dear, 
That no mouth may long therefor, 
And no look there lie, dear. 

Sweet my love ! For what dost owe, 
Wear the seals that I bestow ; 
And to-morrow, if thou choose, dear, 
All the seven seals we'll loose, dear. 



2ln3 bcr Sagbtafdjc cineS miftmutyigen (Sdjityctu 
i 

©tanb id) auf ber Saner, 
am ftatt §irf d> unt> Sftety 
9JJir nidjtS fcor alS £rauer, 
mix md>« »or aW 2Befy. 

©old) 2Bilb aufjutyitren, 
23raud) 7 id) nidjt ben 2Batt> ; 
£>eim in meinen £f)iiren 
£ab' id> T 3 taufenbfatt. 

ii 

©nem, ber etnft auf ber 3agb 
©teflte 33ogeIrcifer, 
£>at man Sron' unb Better gefcradjt, 
Unb er toarb ein Saifer. 



FROM THE GAME-BAG OF AN UNFORTUNATE HUNTER. 

In the forest stood I, 

Came nor stag nor doe, 
Naught but sorrow could I 

See — but grief and woe. 

And such game to trace, there 

Needs no forest old, 
For in homely place, there 

Spring they thousand-fold. 

ii 

Once there went one out to snare 

Birds who sang around him. 
Brought they crown and sceptre there 

And a king they crowned him. 

3 



grtebrid; Dfiicfert. 



Siner, ber ben 2Mb burdjftridj, 
Urn bie Sfyierlein ju morben, 
£)at ju ©anftmutf) befetjret fid), 
3ft em ^etUger toorben. 

©in Saifcr tooilf id) fein an Suft 
Unb ein $etTger an ©inne, 
SBenn bn mid) nafymft an bcine 93ruft, 
O SJfagblein, ba3 id) minne, 

in 

(5« ift nid)t 2lE(e$ fur ben SDienfrtert gemad)t, 
Dfcfdjon er'S mag benfen, ber ©totje; 
©rum fingt bie 9Zad)tigaH in ber 9?ad)t, 
Unb bie BUndein blitfyn im §o!je; 
35a Miifyn unb fingen fie ungeftort, 
2Bo ber SDtenfdf) fie nid)t fietyt, nod) fyort. 



FRIEDRICH RUCKERT. 



One who through the forest ranged, 

That the deer should perish, 
Found his heart to kindness changed — 

Grew a saint to cherish. 

Right kingly would I be at rest, 

And in my spirit saintly, 
Wouldst thou but clasp me to thy breast, 

Oh ! Love, whom I sing faintly ! 

in 

Every good thing for man was not made, 

Though he thinks in his pride so it should stand 
The nightingale sings in the night and the shade 
And the little flowers bloom in the woodland. 
There bloom and sing they, all unstirred, 
By man neither seen, nor heard. 



griebrid? Sftiicfert. 



25or ben Xtfkm. 
3d? ^abe getlc^ft an be$ 9teid?tfmm$ £>an8; 

3)f an reid?t mtr 'nen pfennig jnm genfter I?eran3. 

3d? Ijabe geflopft an ber Siebe £fyiir; 

3)a ftanben fd?on fiinfje^n 2lnbre bafiir. 

3d? flopfte teif an ber (Sfyre @d>loj$; 

„£>ier tljut man nnr auf bem fitter ju 9?of;." 

3d? I?abe gefud?t ber 9lrbeit 2)ad?; 

3)a Ijorf id? brinnen nur SBefy nnb 2ld?! 

3d? fuc^te ba§ £)an$ ber 3nfriebenfyett; 

(Ss fannt' e§ 9?iemanb tt>eit nnb breit. 

9?nn toei§ id? nod? ein £)au§Iein fttCt, 

2Bo id? jnlet^t anttopfen ttitt. 

3tt>ar toofynt baitn fd?on manner ©aft, 

£od? iff fur SStele im ©rab nod) 3?aft. 

@d)afertn, o trie Ijaben 

©ie bid? fo f Iif^ begraben! 
Side Sitfte baben geftcl?nct. 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT, 



At the Doors. 
I knocked at Riches' residence, 
And out through the window they threw me pence 
I went and knocked at Love's bright door — 
Fifteen others had reached it before ! 
I knocked at Renown's high-castled home : 
" Here can none but horsemen come." 
I sought the dwelling of Work, and lo ! 
There heard I naught but " Alas !" and "Woe!" 
I sought the house where the happy abide. 
And no one knew it, far and wide. 
But I know a small house, where I may 
Knock for the last time on my way. 
True, ihere already is many a guest, 
But the grave has room for still more to rest. 

Sweet Burial. 
Shepherdess, daintilie 

Did they make a grave for thee ! 
All the breezes there sang lowly, 



griebrid) SftMert. 

SJfaienglocfen ju ©rab bir getonet. 
©litfyttmrm tooQte bie gacfel tragen, 
©tern tfym felbft e$ tfyat Derfagen. 
S^ac^t ging fcfymarj in £rauerftoren, 
Unb all' ifyre ©fatten gingen in Efybren. 
2)ie £fyranen toirb bir ba3 9Jforgenrotfy toeinen, 
Unb ben ©egen bie ©onn' auf3 ©rab bir fdjeinen. 
©cfyaferin, o tote fyaben 
©ie bid? fo fiift begraben ! 

8 i e b e $ f r it I i n g. 

(Srfier etraug. 
v 

®er fritntnet Ijat eine £fyrane getaeint, 
®ie fyat fid) in'3 9J? eer ju fcerlieren gemeint. 
3)ie 9Jfufd)eI fatn, unb fcfylof; fie ein: 
3)u foflft nun tneine ^erle fein* 
©u fcttft nicfyt sor ben 2Sogen jagen, 
3d) tmfl fyinburcfy bid) rufyig tragen, 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 39 

Lily bells o'er thy grave rang slowly. 
Glowworms bright their torches lent thee, 
Stars themselves their shining sent thee ; 
Mourning night kept vigil o'er thee, 
And all its shadows passed before thee. 
Aurora wept for thee at the dawning, 
And on thee the sunbeams smiled in the morning ; 
Shepherdess, daintilie 

Did they make a grave for thee ! 

love's springtime. 
First Nosegay, 
v 

The heavens once a tear let fall, 
And thought in the sea 'twould be lost to all. 
A mussel-shell closed it in silently: 
Henceforward thou my pearl shalt be. 
Thou shalt not on the storm-waves quiver, 
But with me thou shalt stay forever. 



grtebrtdj DiMert. 



O bu mein ©cfymerj, bu meine ^uft, 
2)u £>tmmet§tfyran' in meiner 23ruft! 
©ib, §>immel, bag idj in reinem ©emiitfye 
2)en reinften beiner Xropfen pte. 

XVI 

@o lang id6 toerbe: „8tebft bu mid?, 

D Siebfter?" bid) fragen, 

@o lange foDft: „3cfy liebe bidj, 

£5 Siebfte!" mir fagen. 
2Berb' id) mtt Sliden: „Siebft bu mid), 

© Striper?" bid) fragen; 

2»tt Stiffen fotlfi: „3d) liebe bu$, 

D Siebfte!" mir fagen. 
Unb toirb ein ©eufjer: „\!iebft bu mid), 

O Stebfter bid? fragen; 

(Sin 8fid>eln fofl: „3d^ liebe bidj, 

O Siebfte!" mir fagen. 



FRIEDRICH RUCKERT. 



Oh ! thou my sorrow ! Thou my rest ! 
Thou heaven's tear within my breast ! 
Grant, heaven, that in a pure heart, deep, 
Thy tear-drop pure and fair I keep. 

Second Xosegay. 

XVI 

So long as " Dost love me, 

My lover ? " I pray, 

So long thou "I love thee, 

My dear one ! " shalt say. 
When with glances, " Dost love me, 

My lover ? " I pray, 

Then with kisses, "I love thee, 

My dear one ! " shalt say. 
When with sighs, " Dost thou love me, 

My lover ? " I pray, 

With smiles, then, " I love thee, 

My dear one ! " shalt say. 



42 



grtebrid? Sftiicfert. 



9ittorucUc* 

33111% ber attcmbetn! 

3)u fiiegft bem Senj uorauS unb ftreuft im 2Binbe 
©id) auf bie ^fabe too fetn guft foil tocmbettt. 

3ierlid)e$ ©Iccfcfyen! 

33om ©cfynee, ber t>on ben gforen toeggegattgett, 
33ift bu juriicfgeblieben tote em glocfcfyen. 

33efd)eibene$ 23eildjett! 

®u fageft : „9Samt id? gefye, lommt bie 9fofe." 
©d)on, bag fie fommt, bod} meite nocfy ein 233eilcfyett. 

©lanjenbe Silie! 

2) ie 33Iumen fyalten ©otteSbienft im ©arten; 
®u bift ber ^riefter unter bev gamitie. 

Silienftengel! 

3u einem ©traufte bift bu nicfyt gefcf)affen, 

3) tdj tragen nur in §anben ©otteS Sngel. 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 



RITORNELLE. 

Almond bloom sweet ! 
Thou heraldest the spring, and by the zephyr 
Art lightly strewn before its footprints fleet. 

Snow-drop, awake ! 
Beneath the drifts that from the fields have vanished, 
Thou dost remain here like a dainty flake. 

And timid violet ! 
Thou sayest, " When I go then come the roses/' 
'Tis well they come, but thou must linger yet. 

Pure lily-sheen ! 
The flowers are holding worship in the garden, 
And of them all the high-priest thou hast been. 

Lily-stalk fair ! 
Thou art not plucked with other flowers to mingle, 
But in their hands God's angels do thee bear. 



grtebrid? Sftiicfert. 



f cut grilling* 

3ft ber grilling ba ? 
@inb fie griin bie gluren ? 
9JJeine 33ttcfe fnfyren 
©ndbenb, fern unb nafy'. 

Slfcer fetner fafy, 
Stebfte, beine @pwm 
©rim finb nicfyt bte gluren, 
grilling tft nicfyt ba* 



grilling nub $txb)L 

SBenn bu fyinau§ auf bte gelber gefyft, 
3nt ©riinen braitgen a(3 gristing ftefyft, 
@o tft fyier §erbft in ber tobten ©tabt. 
2J?eine 28ange, bie fa^Ie glur, 
£at geronnene £t)ranen nur, 
Unb ntein §erj tft ein toelfeS 93Iatt 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 



45 



NO SPRING. 

Is the springtime here ? 

Are the meadows blowing? 

See my glances going, 
Searching far and near. 
But I see not, dear, 

Thy light footprints showing, 

Meadows are not blowing, 
Springtime is not here ! 



SPRING AND AUTUMN. 

When thou dost roam in the fields away, 

And there in the meadows like Spring dost stay, 

In the lifeless town 'tis Autumn drear, 
And my cheek a faded plain, 
Is furrowed with tears' sad rain, 

And my heart is a leaf grown sere. 



grtebrtd) Sttucfert. 



3tticitblteb bc<3 2Banberer§* 

2Cte (id; ©fatten befjnen 
3Som ©ebirg jur ©ee, 
giifylt ba3 £>er$ em ©eljnen 
Unto ein ttefeS 2£efy. 

28ie bie 9Wot>en ftiegen 
^Intfyen ufertoartS, 
Wofyt' icfy nun mid) fdjtniegen 
2ln ein treueS ©erj. 

grofy im Sltorgenf trimmer 
3tefyt ein SBanb'rer auS, 
2lber 2lbenb3 immer 
SDWdfyf er fein ju §au$« 

©djtfffaljit 
2Bie ein ©cfyifftein auf bem 9JJeer 
©djtoebt ba$ Seben iiber'm Sob, 
Dben, unten, rings untljer 
3Son ©efafyren [lets umbreljt 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 



wanderer's evening song. 

When the shadows, thronging, 

On the ocean fall, 
On the heart falls longing, 

And grief's heavy pall. 
When the sea-gulls, breasting 

Waves, fly toward the shore, 
On a true heart resting 

Would I be once more. 
In the morning's shining 

May the wanderer roam, 
But at day's declining, 

Yearneth he for home. 



A VOYAGE. 

Like a boat upon the sea, 
Life is swaying over death ; 

Round about continually 
Perils rise with every breath. 



griebricfy Dtticfert. 



(Sine fc^tx>ac^e 23rettertocmb 
Xremtet bid? fcon betnem ©tab; 
@tne8 £aucf)e$ Unbeftcmb 
2Btegt bicf> fdjaufelttb cmf unb at. 

©eten Sitftc nod) fo Har, 
©et tie SEiefe nod) fo fKH, 
Sit @efaf)r tft ttnmerbar, 
2Ber burets Se&en fduffen totll. 

5tn bie ©djtoalbc* 

©d)toal6e, bu btft etn Itefcer ©aft ; 
©udjft bu in metnem £>aufe 9iaft ? 
Honnf id) bein Sfoft bir jeigen! 
3)aS §cmS tft tttdjt tnein eigen. 

SBarte nur! eben bau' id) ein$, 
9Jiir etn gropereS, btr cm ffetn 7 ^, 
®a tr>oIIen toir jtoei fcertraglid) 
Bufammen fein tagtaglid). 



FRIED RICH R U CKER T. 



49 



But a crumbling wall at best 

Parts thee from thy grave below ; 

On the wind's uncertain breast 
Thou art swinging to and fro. 

Though the breezes may be fair, 

Though the waves be hushed from strife, 

Peril hovers everywhere 

Round about the ship of life. 

TO A SWALLOW. 

Swallow, thou art a welcome guest ! 
Seekest thou, then, in my house to rest ? 
Thou shouldst build a nest in some hollow, 
But the house is not mine, O swallow ! 

But I will build them — only wait ! 
Thee a little one — me a great ; 
And there we two, right gayly 
Shall be together daily ! 
4 



griebrtd) Dttttfert, 



£)er Stebe Seben tft fdjnetl t>ottfcrad^t. 
(5$ fetmet, e$ retft in ehter 9?ad)t; 

^ritfymorgeuS ertt>ad)t, 

S^ocE) itf bu'S gebacfjt, 

ppft'3 Srablctn frtfa 

3)urdfy 331iit^engebiif cf> 

Unb regt bte ©Iteber 

SWtt 2^a*t, nut 2Ka<$t. 

^ommt'3 2lfceubrotf>, 

3p Shtblem tobt, 

(5$ legt fid) nteber, 

Srfte^t nicfyt tmeber, 

3ft ntmmer erttad)t, 

©ute 9fou$t, gute 9?atf>t! 

S)cin Sauf tft fcottbrad)t, 

Detn ©rab tft gemacfyt, 

©ute SRactyt, gute 5Rac^t! 



FRIED RICH RUCKERT. 



GOOD-NIGHT. 

The life of love soon takes its flight, 
It comes — it goes — in a single night ; 

Wakes in morning bright, 

Ere thou seest it aright, 

A merry child, 

Plays through blossoms wild, 

Here — there — it flies 

With might, with might. 

Comes evening-red, 

The child is dead ; 

All still it lies, 

Will ne'er arise ; 

Wakes to no light, 

Good-night ! Good-night ! 

Thy life takes flight, 

Thy grave's in sight, 

Good-night ! Good-night ! 



2)er Sdjmteb. 

3d? fycr' tnetnen ©d)a£, 
3)en jammer er fcf^totnget, 
®a3 raufcfyet, ba§ fltnget, 
£)a$ brtngt in bie SBeite 
2Bte ©locfengelaute, 
£)urcfy ©affett imb ^Ia|. 

21m fcfytoarjen Santin, 
3)a ftijet ntetn Sieber, 

2) ocf) gefy' id) fcoriiber, 

3) ie 93alge bann faufen, 
Sie glammen aufbraufen, 
Unb Icbern um tfyn. 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



THE SMITH. 

My lover I greet ! 
His hammer is swinging, 
Tis whistling and ringing. 
Like merry bells pealing, 
Right gayly 'tis stealing 

Afar down the street. 

By his furnace's blaze 
My lover is sitting, 
When past I am flitting, 
The bellows, deep roaring, 
The flames, upward soaring, 

Sing loudly his praise. 



Sttbtmg Ufytcmb. 



Steb beg ©tfangenetu 
2Bte UeMtrfjer Hiang! 
D 2erd)e, fcetn ©ang, 
Sr Ijefct fid), er fdjtoingt fidE> in SBonne. 

2) u ttimmft mid) &on l)ier, 
3d) finge tnit bir, 

SEBir ftetgen burd) SBoWen jur ©onne. 

D Serene! bu neigft 

3) id) nteber, bu f cf^tr>eigft, 

2)u finfft in t>ie Miifyenben 2luen, 
3d) fd)toetge junta! 
Unb finfc jutfyal, 

2lcfy ! lief in SDfober unb ©rauen. 

SSalblieb. 

3m 2SaIbe gel)' id) toofjlgemutl), 
9JJir grant Dor Sftaufcem nidjt; 
(Sin liefcenb §erj ift all mein ©ut, 
£)a$ fucfyt fein 93ofemid)t 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



SONG OF THE CAPTIVE. 

Oh ! skylark, thy song 

Floats sweetly along 
With joy from thy throat loudly pouring ; 

In thought I am free, 

And warble with thee, 
Through clouds to the sun we are soaring. 

Thy song at an end, 

When thou dost descend, 
Thou sinkest in meadows delightful ; 

I come from the sky, 

And sink with a sigh — 
Deep into captivity frightful ! 

FOREST SONG. 

Happy I wander through the woods, 

No robbers fear I there — 
A loving heart is all my goods, 

For that no thief doth care. 



2Ba$ raufd&t, toaS rafdjelt burd) ben 33ufd)? 
Sin Sftorber, ber mtr brofyt ? 
SJiein Siefcdjen fommt gefprungen, fyufd) ! 
Unb fyerjt mid? faft ju £ob. 

Sitgerlteb* 
Rein' fcejj're Sajt in biefer Beit, 

burdj ben 2Mb ju bringen, 
fflSo ©roffet ftngt unb £>abid)t fcfyreit, 
2Bo £)irfd)' unb 9?e^e fpringen, 

D! f&jj' mein iitcb tm 203tpfel griin, 
£fyat tote 'ne ©roffel fdjlagen! 
D fyrang' e$, toie etn 9?efy, bafyin, 
£)a& id) eS fiSnnte jagen ! 

D! ©anfter, fitter £aucfy! 
©cfyon toecfeft bu roieber 
Wxx griipngSlieber, 
23atb bliifyen bie Skildjen and)! 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



What sounds — what rustles in the brush ? 

Is it a murderer's breath ? 
My darling springs toward me — hush ! 

And kisses me to death ! 

HUNTING SONG. 

What pleasure rare to walk along, 

Within the forest singing ; 
'Mid hawk's shrill cry and thrush's song, 

Where stag and doe are springing ! 

Oh ! sang my love but like a thrush, 
That, birdlike, I might woo her ! 

Oh ! sprang she, doelike, through the brush, 
That I might swift pursue her ! 

spring's presage. 
Oh ! zephyr, so gentle, so sweet ! 

Awaking with thee, 

Fly spring-songs to me, 
Soon violets will bloom at my feet. 



Subttrig Ufytanb. 



©aatengviht, SSctlc^en^uft, 
Serdfjetttmrbel, Slmfetfdfylag, 
©onnenregett, linbe Suft! 

2Beira id? fclcf^e 28orte finge, 
33raud)t e$ bann nocfy grower £)htge, 
35tdj ju preifen, griify(tng$tag! 

$tc Bufriebenen. 

3$ faft Bet jener Sinbe 
2Jitt metnem trauten Shtbe, 
2Btr fa^en §cmb in .£>cmb. 
Stein 331attd)en raitfd&f im 2Binbe, 
£)ie ©onne fd)ien gelinbe 
£erat auf$ [title Scmb. 

2Bir faften ganj fcerfdfytmegen, 
Wit inntgem SSergttiigen, 
2)aS §erj faum merflid) fd^Iug; 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



59 



PRAISE OF SPRING. 

Violet-scent, meadow-green, 
Song of lark and blackbird rare, 
Sunny shower, breeze serene ! 

When these thoughts my heart are filling, 
Sweeter words to me come thrilling 
In thy praise, oh ! spring-time fair ! 

CONTENTED. 

Beneath the linden shady, 
I sat, with my heart's ladye, 

Contented, hand in hand. 
There not a leaf was blowing, 
The sun was brightly glowing 

Down on the silent land. 

The time we could not measure, 
So lost were we in pleasure, 
Scarcely our hearts did beat. 



Subtmg UMatib. 

2Ba$ foUten hnr and) fagcn ? 
2Ba$ fotmten xviv un$ fragen ? 
2Btr touftten ja genug. 

S3 modfyt' un3 tttcfyt mefyr fet)(en, 
Hem ©efynen fonnf un$ quaten, 
TOcfttS iHebeS tear unS fern; 
2lu$ liebem Slug' etn ©riiften, 
2Som Iie6en SDtunb etn Kiiffen, 
@ab etn$ tern anbern gern. 

Seine 2lugen finb nicfyt fytmmel&lcm, 
T)etn SDtunb, er ift fetn 9?ofemttmtb, 
SRtd&t 23ruft unb 2lrme Silten. 
Slcfy ! toeld^ etn grilling toaxt ba$, 
2Bo fotdje Stlien, folcfye 9tofen 
3m Xfyal nnb auf ben £)cfyen Miifyten 
Unb aUe^ ba$ etn ftarer §tmmel 
Umftnge, trie bein btatteS Slug 7 ! 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



We breathed no word — why should we ? 
We questioned not — how could we ? 
We knew that life was sweet. 

We cared not for the morrow, 
We knew not pain or sorrow, 

Love was not far away. 
From the dear eyes a greeting, 
A kiss from warm lips meeting — 

So passed the happy day. 

TO HER. 

Thine eves shine not with heaven's blue, 
Thv mouth it is no rosebud, sweet, 
Thy breast and arms no lilies are ; 
Ah ! what a spring our eyes would greet, 
If rose and lilies such as these 
In vale and hill our sight should meet, 
And over all should watch and shine 
A heaven like thine eyes divine ! 



Subttrig Ufylcmb. 

®a3 9fr5$d?en, ba$ bu mtr gefcfytcft, 
S3 on betner tteben §anb gepftiicft, 
(S$ lebte faum jum 9lbenbrotlj, 
2)a$ §>etmtoelj gab tfym friiljen Job ; 
tfitm fcfyroebet gletdj fein @etft t>on fyter 
2US fletne^ 2teb juriicf ju btr, 

S e b e to o I) t 

Sebe toofyl, mem !i!teb, 
Slftujs nocfy fyeute fcfyetbert; 
(Smen Suf;, einen Su§ mtr gteb! 
9JJuj3 btcfy etotg metben. 

(£tne 23liitfy', erne SBliitfy' mtr brtcfy 
33on bem 33aum tm ©arten! 
$eine griidjt', feme griicfyf fiir mid)! 
2)arf fie nidjt ern>arten. 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



AN ANSWER. 

The bud they brought me yester-morn, 
By thy dear hand from its stem torn, 
Lived scarce until the eventide, 
And then of loneliness it died. 
Now hid within this melody, 
Its ghost flies back again to thee. 

FAREWELL. 

Farewell, farewell ! To-day, 
Dear love, we two must sever. 

One kiss, one kiss, I pray ! 

Must leave thee, sweet, forever. 

One bud pluck from the tree 
That in the garden's blowing ! . 

No fruit, no fruit for me ! 
I cannot wait its growing. 



3n ber gente> 

2BitI rnfyen unter ben 23aumen Ijier, 
Die SSBgtetn £>i3r ? icfy fo gerne; 
233ie fittget it>r fo jum £er$en mir! 
33on nnj'rer Siebe toaS miffet iljr 
3n t>iefer toeiten gerne? 

2BiH rntjen ^ter an be§ 93ad£)c^ 9tanb, 
2Bo bufttge Slitmlein fprtegen; 
2Ber fyat eucfy, Slihnlein, fyieljer gefanbt, 
@eib ifyr ein fyerjlicfyeS SiebeSpfanb 
2ln$ ber gerne t>on meiner ©iij^en ? 

(§3 gingen brei Sager toofyl auf bie Strfdj, 
Die toollten erjagen ben meiften §irfd). 

Die legten ftcfy nnter ben Dannenbanm, 
Da fatten bie Drei einen feltfamen Draunt. 



LCD WIG UHLAND. 



FAR' AWAY. 

I stand the forest trees below, 
The birds sing merry-hearted ; 

Why sink your songs in my bosom so ? 

And of my love what can ye know ? 
So widely from her parted ? 

I stand upon the streamlet's edge, 

Where flowers their perfume lend me. 

Who gave you, flowers, this privilege ? 

Are ye, then, of her love a pledge 
That she from far doth send me? 

THE SNOW-WHITE STAG. 

Three huntsmen rode to the wood away 
To hunt the snow-white stag one day. 



They lay them down neath the hemlock tree, 
And a wondrous dream came to the three. 
5 



Subnng Ufylattb* 



©er (S r ft e. 

Wvc Ijat getraumt, id} ftcpft' auf ben 33ufd}, 
©a raufdjte ber §irfd} IjerauS, ljufd}, ljufd}! 

2) er 3 toe it e. 

Unb al$ er fprang mit ber §unbe ©eflaff, 
©a fcrannf id) ifym auf ba$ gell, piff, ^aff ! 

®er ©ritte. 

Unb al$ icfy ben £>irfd) an ber ®rbe fafy, 
©a ftieft id} tuftig in'S £>orn, trara! 

@o lagen fie ba unb fpracfyen, bie 2)rei, 
2)a rannte ber toeifte £>irfd} fcorki. 

Unb el) 1 t>ie brei SSger ifyn red}t gefel^n, 
Da tt>ar er babon, iiber Xiefen unb §6^n. 
£ufd}, $ufc$! piff, paff! Srara! 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



67 



THE FIRST. 

I dreamed that I lightly rustled the brush, 

And out sprang the snow-white stag — hush ! — hush ! 

THE SECOND. 

'Mid the baying of dogs, with triumphant laugh, 
As he sprang I shot him dead — piff-paff ! 

THE THIRD. 

As he lay on the ground, with a loud hurra ! 
I merrily blew on the horn, trara ! 

While idly talking there they lay, 
Swift ran the snow-white stag away. 

And ere the three huntsmen had seen it aright, 
It had fled from their view over valley and height. 
Hush— hush ! Piff-paff ! Trara ! 



$!ubit>tg Ufylanb. 

$te brei Sieber. 

3n ber fyoljen £a!T fag Sonig ©if rib, 
„3t>* £>arfner, h>er tr>eig mir ba$ fcfyonfte 8ieb?" 
Unb em bungling trat anS ber ©d^aar beljenbe, 
®ie £>arf in ber £anb, ba§ ©cfymert an ber Senbe. 

©ret Steber toeift id); ben erften ©ang, 
©en Ijaft bn ja toofyl ^ergeffen fcfyon tang: 
„„9Jieinen 93rnber fyaft bu mencfylingS erftodjen," " 
Unb after: „„£)aft ifyn meucpngS erftodfyen." 

3)a$ anbre Sieb, ba$ fyab' id) erbadjt, 

3n einer fmftern, ftiirmtj^en !Jiad)t: 

„ tf 3Jltt$t mit mir fecfyten anf Seben nnb ©terben, " 

Unb aber: „„2ftnj3 fecfyten anf Seben nnb ©terben." 

©a leljnf er bie §arfe toofyl an ben £ifcb, 
Unb fie jogen beibe bie @d)tt)erter frifdj, 
Unb focfyten lange, mit toitbem ©d)alle, 
23i3 ber Konig fanf in ber Ijotjen §aHe. 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



THE THREE SONGS. 

In the hall of the palace sat Sifrid the -king, 
"Who, harpers, the loveliest song can sing?" 
And a youth hastens forth at the royal command, 
His sword in its sheath, his harp in his hand. 

"Three melodies know I, O king ! The first song 
Thou hast, as it seemeth, forgotten full long : 
1 My brother hast thou with foul treachery slain ! ' 
And again, ' Hast thou with foul treachery slain ! ' 

"Another song still, the second 'tis hight, 
I learned on a lonely and storm-darkened night : 
1 Must with me battle for life and death ! ' 
And again, ' Must battle for life and death ! ' " 

He leaned his harp up against the board, 
And each from its sheath drew a glittering sword ; 
And fought they right wildly, with cry of woe, 
Till the king on the floor of the hall lay low. 



Subtmg Ufylcmb. 

^nn ftng' id) fcaS brttte, ba$ fdE>i5nfte Sieb, 
2)a$ toerb' id} ttimmcr ju fingen mitb: 
„„^onig ©ifrib liegt in fetm rotten Stute," 
Unb aber „„2iegt in feim rotten 33 lute!"" 

Sic @d)Inmmcwbe* 
2Bcmn beine SBimper neibifdfy fattt, 
£)ann nmf; in beiner innern SSelt 
Sin lifter £rcmm beginnen, 
®ein 2tuge ftrafylt nacfy innen. 

© dig cr Sob* 
©eftorben tear id) 
3Sor 8iebe$n?onne; 
23egraben lag id} 
3n ifyren SIrmen; 
(Srtoedet toarb id> 
33on ifyren Stiffen; 
©en ^intmct fat) idfy 
3n iljren 2lugen. 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



7-t 



' 'The third, now, the loveliest song will I sing ; 
Will nevermore tire of its joyous ring : 
' King Sifrid lies dead in his crimson blood ! ' 
And again, ' Lies dead in his crimson blood ! ' " 

ASLEEP. 

When thy dark lids reluctant fall, 
Then in thine inmost world of all 
A dainty dream beginneth, 
Thine eye toward it winneth. 

HAPPY DEATH. 

Perished had I, 

With love's smart ; 
Buried lay I, 

On her heart ; 
Wakened was I, 

By her kiss, 
In her eyes 

Saw heaven's bliss ! 



Subtoig UManb. 

9luf ben Sob etne§ $ittbe§* 
®u famft, bn gtngft mil leifer @pnr, 
©in pcfct'ger ©aft im ©rbenlanb; 
2Bofyer? SBo^in? 2Bir foiffen nnr, 
2InS ©ctteS £>anb in ©otteS £anb. 

9tac()trnfe* 
3d? reit' in'S ftnji're Sanb Ijinein, 
9?id)t 9J?onb nod? ©terne gefcen ©djein, 
®tc fatten SBinbe tofen; 
Dft fyab' id} btefen 2Beg gemad)t, 
SEBann golb'ner ©onnenfefyein gelacfyt, 
23ei lauer Siiftc Scfen. 

3d) reif am ftnftern ©arten fyin, 
3)ie bitrren 23aume faufen brin, 
2)tc ttelfen flatter fatten; 
§ier pflegf id) in ber 9iofenjeit, 
2Bann atte^ fid) ber £iefce toetfyt, 
5D?it nietnem Sieb ju toaflen. 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 

Thou gently cam'st to us below, 

A passing guest in earth's cold land. 

Whence? Whither? Ah! we only know. 
From out God's hand into God's hand. 

A NIGHT JOURNEY. 

I ride alone throughout the night, 
Nor moon nor star my path doth light, 

The wind is coldly fretting ; 
Oft have I passed this way before, 
When the glad sun its light did pour, 

With the soft breeze coquetting. 

I ride unto the garden drear, 
The branches rustle dry and sere, 

The withered leaves are falling ; 
Here used I 'mid the flowers to rove. 
When all was consecrate with love, 

Its power our hearts enthralling. 



Srlofdfyen ift ber ©onnenftrafyl, 
3Sertr>elft bie 9iofen al^nmal, 
5Dlem Sieb ju ©rab getragen. 
3d? reit' in'S finffre Scmb fyinein, 
3m SBinterfturm, olm' alien ©cfyein, 
2)en Mantel umgefdfylagen. 

© r etf entoortc. 
@agt ntd&t mel)r, „@nten Sftorgen! guten Jag!'' 
@agt immer: „@nten 2lbenb! gute S^ad^t!" 
®enn Slbenb tft e$ urn mtdfy, unb bte ^ftadfyt 
3ft nafye mir, O toare fie fcfyon ba! 



$omm tyer, mein $inb! o bit mein fiifteS Seben! 
Sftein, fomm, mem Kinb, o bu mem fiijjer Job! 
3)enn atteS, toaS mir bitter, nenn' id} Sebett! 
Unb tr>a^ mir fiig ift, nenn' id? alle§ Job! 



LUDWIG UHLAND. 



Thick shadows o'er the landscape fall, 
Faded and gone the roses all, 

My love for aye is sleeping ; 
I ride alone in dark and night, 
Through storm, with never ray of light, 

My cloak around me keeping. 

GROWN OLD. 

Say then no more, " Good morrow/' or " Good day/ 
But rather say, " Good even," and " Good night ; " 
Then evening is it with me, and the night 
Is near me — were it only here ! 



Come to me, love, O thou my sweetest life ! 
No, come, my love, O thou my sweetest death ! 
Then all that bitter is will I call life, 
And what is sweet, that call I gladly death. 



$ e t n x i d) £) t \ nt. 

£cr Bttttmenttom 

Siefc SieBdben, leg's §cmbd)en auf'S ^erje mein; 
2td), fyorft bu tone's ^ccfjet im tammerlein ? 
35a i)aufet cm 3immermann, fd)limm unb arg, 
®er 3tmmert mir emeu Xobtenfarg. 

@$ l)ammert unb flo^fet bet Sag unb 9?ad)t, 
(S$ t)at mid) fd)on langft urn ben @d)Iaf gekad)t; 
2ld) f^utet eud), SDieifter 3wmermann, 
2)amit id) balbe fAIafen fann! 

Sent $txyfym. 
2luf meiner §erjUel>[ten 2leugetein 
Mai} 1 id) bie fd)onften Sanjonen. 
3Iuf raeiner §erjtieBften Sftiinblein flein 
dJlafy id) bie kften Xerjinen. 



HEIXRICH HEINE. 

THE CARPENTER. 

Come lay thy hand on this heart of mine, sweet ; 
In its little dark room dost thou hear it beat ? 
A carpenter works there with hateful skill. 
He is building a coffin for me to fill. 

He hammers and knocks by night and by day, 

Already he's driven sleep far away. 

Ah ! master carpenter, work your best, 

So that ere long I may be at rest. 

NO HEART. 

Upon my dearest's blue eyes, there 
The prettiest canzonets I'll ring ; 
Unto my dearest's mouth, rose-rare, 
The best of triolets I'll bring ; 



§etnrtd) petite. 



2luf meiner £>er$tiebften SBcmgeleht 
Sftacfy' id? bie fyerrticfyften ©tcmjen. 
Unb toenn tneine Siebfte ein §erjcf)en Ijatt', 
3d? macfyte barauf em fyitbfdjeS ©onett. 

3m tounberfdjbnen 2J?onat 9?Jai, 
2113 afle Sfttotyen tyrangen, 
35a ift in meinem £>erjen 
£)ie Siebe aufgegangen. 

3m tounberfd^onen SKonat 2ftai, 
2113 aHe SSoget fangen, 
SDa fyab' ify i^r geftanben 
SJfein ©efynen unb 33erfangen. 

Seife jiefyt burdj metn ©emiitfy 
8iebltd)e3 ©elaute, 
Slinge, fleine3 grifyling3lteb, 
Sling' fyinauS in'3 SBcitc. 



HEIXRICH HEINE. 



Unto my dearest's cheeks so fair, 
The loveliest stanzas I will sing, 
And had my love a heart, upon it 
I'd make my very sweetest sonnet ! 

IN THE MONTH OF MAY. 

One sunny day in early May, 

When all the flowers were springing, 
Came love's first smart into my heart, 
Its joy and sorrow bringing. 

One sunny day in early May, 
When all the birds were singing, 

I whispered low my love and woe, 
My heart before her flinging. 

SPRING SONG. 

Through my thoughts there lightly fly 
May-bells ringing sweetly ! 

Speed, my spring-song, far and near, 
Joyfully and fleetly ! 



Jpeinrtd) £>etne. 



3ie^ fyinauS Big an bag £>an£, 
2Bo bte 33eild)en fprtegen ; 
SBenn bn eine 9tofe fcfyanft, 
@ag', id) laff (ie griigen* 

9tatf)t§ in for taiiite* 

IV 

(Singetotegt fcon 9fteere3tDeHett 
Unb fcon trautnenben ©ebanfen, 
i*ieg' id) [till trt ber Saj;ute, 
$n bem bnnfeln 2BtnfeI6ette. 

5)urd) bie off ne Sucfe fdfyau' id) 
£>roben J)od? bte fyeHen ©terne, 
®ie geliefcten, fiifjen 2lugen 
2ftetner fiigen SSielgeltebten. 

35ie geliebten, fiif^en Slugen 
2Sad)en liter tneinem §anpte, 
Unb fie Blinfen nnb fie toinfen 
2luS ber blauen £)immet$becfe. 



HEINRICH HEINE, 



Go, and swiftly to the house 

Of the violet hie thee ! 
Say, if thou shouldst meet a rose, 

I send her greetings by thee ! 

NIGHTS IN THE CABIN. 
IV 

Cradled by the ocean waves, 

And by happy dream-thoughts led, 
Silent I in the cabin lie, 

In my shadowed, sheltered bed. 

Through the opening wide 1 gaze 
Up to many a shining star ; 

In the skies the sweetest eyes 
Of my sweetest love they are. 

Ah ! the dearest, sweetest eyes 
Watch me ever full of love, 

And thev shimmer and they srlimmer 
From the heavens so blue above. 



£>etnrid) §etne. 



Sftacfy ber blauen §imtnel$be(fe 
©djau' ify feltg (ange ©tunben, 
23i§ ein toeifter Sftebelf deleter 
Wlxx fcertyfiHt bie lieben 2lugen. 

VI 

S3 traumte mir fcon einer tseiten 5pait>e, 
SBeit iiberbecft fcon [Mem, toeigem ©cfynee, 
Unb unterm toeiften ©cfynee lag id) begraben 
Uttb fdEUtef ben etnfatn, fatten £obe$fcbtaf. 

SDodj broben auS bem bunfeln §tmniel fcbauten 
Remitter auf tnetn @rab bte ©ternenaugen, 
Die fiigen 2lugen! Unb fie gtan^ten fiegfyaft 
Unb rufyig fyeiter, aber fcofler Stebe. 

$ic ©pmdjc far Sick* 

(§6 ftefyen unbetoeglidfy 
35ie ©terne in ber &6\)\ 
33ier taufenb Satyr', unb foremen 
©td) an mit SiebeSiDefy. 



HEINRICH HEINE. 



Up into the azure heavens 

Look I ever with delight, 
Till a pale, misty veil 

Hides the dearest eyes from sight. 

VI 

Methought there stretched a wide and dreary moor, 
With still white snow all covered thick and deep ; 
And in my grave I lay beneath the snow-drifts, 
And slept forevermore the cold death-sleep. 

And yet, through all the gloom, the starry eyes 
Looked down into my grave from heaven above ; 
The blessed eyes ! They shone with glow serene, 
Peaceful and calm, and full of sweetest love. 

love's language. 
Through endless years unchanging, 

The stars have shone above ; 
With many glances, gazing, 

Of sadness and of love. 



§ehirid) §etne. 



©te fyrecfyen erne ©pradje, 
SDie tft fo retdfy, fo fd)i3n; 
3)od) fetner ber ^fyilologen 
Sann btefe ©pradfye toerftebn. 

3cf) aber fyab ? fie gelernet, 
Unb id) uergeffe fie nicbt; 
W\x biente al§ ©ramtnatif 
®er £)erjal!erUebften ©eficfyt. 

3d) ftanb gelefynet an ben 2ftaft, 
Unb jaftte jebe 2Betie. 
?lbe! metn fd)i5ne$ SSaterlanb! 
TOetn @d)iff, ba$ fegelt fdjnede! 

3d) fam 3d)i3n SiebdjenS £au8 Dorbet, 
£)te genfterfefyetben blinfen; 
3d) gnd' nur faft bie 2lngen au§, 
1)od) toitt nur 9?temanb tDtnfen. 



HEINRICH HEINE. 

They speak a wondrous language, 

It is so rich, so rare — 
Yet never philologian 

Its secrets can declare. 

But I, ah ! I have learned it, 

And can it ne'er forget ! 
Before me, for a grammar, 

My darling's face was set. 

ON THE WATER. 

I stand and lean against the mast, 
And count each billow's parting. 

Farewell ! farewell ! loved Fatherland ! 
Bird-like my skiff is darting ! 

I sail before my darling's house, 
The windows brightly glisten. 

I strain my eyes — no sign, no sound 
Comes while I watch and listen. 



£>etnrt(f> §etne. 

3fyr S^rctnen, bteibt mir an$ bem Slug', 
©aft id) md)t bnnfel felje. 
Sftein franfeS §erje, brief) mtr nid^t 
SSor attjugrojsem 2Befye ! 

$cr Stern ber Siebc. 

©3 faUt em ©tern fyernnter 
2lu§ feiner funfelnben £>ofy'; 
S$ ift ber ©tern ber Siebe, 
£)en i<$ bort fatten fefj'! 

6$ fatten fcom 2tyfelbaume 
3)er 33Iiitfyen unb flatter fctef ; 
(£8 fommen tie necfenben Siiftc 
Unb treiben bamit tyx ©piel. 

S3 ftngt ber ©dfytoan im 2Bei^er 
Unb rnbert anf nnb ab, 
Unb, immer Ictfc fingenb, 
£andfyt er in'S glntfyengr ab. 



HEINRICH HEIXE. 



Ye tear-drops fall ! Cloud not my eyes, 
For I all light would borrow ! 

Alas, alas ! my heart, break not 
With thy too heavy sorrow ! 



THE STAR OF LOVE. 

There comes a star, down falling 
From out its shimmering sky ; 

It is the shining star of love 
That nutters swiftly by. 

Down from the trees are dropping 
Blossoms and leaves to earth ; 

The zephyrs, softly blowing, 
Have scattered them in mirth. 

Upon the lake so tranquil, 
A swan swims to and fro, 

And ever sweeter singing, 
Sinks to its grave below. 



g$ tft fo ftiU unb bunfel ! 
33ertoet;t tft Slatt unb 33Iutl>% 
£)er ©tern tft fntfternb jerftoben, 
33erfhmgen ba§ ©cfytoanenlteb. 

Sftadjt lag auf metnen 2tugen, 
33Iet lag auf metnem Sftunb, 
2Ktt ftarrem $>trn unb £>erjen 
Sag id) tm ©rabeSgrunb. 

235ie tang' lann id) nid)t fagen, 
£)afe id) gefd)(afen fyab', 
3d) toacfyte auf, unb fyorte 
2Bie'S ^od^te an metn ©rab. 

„2Bittft bu ntdjt aufftefy'n, £einricfy ! 
S)er eto'ge Sag brid)t an; 
2)te SEobten finb erftanben, 
®te eto'ge Suft begann." 



HEINRICH HEINE, 



It is so still and darkling ! 

Afar the leaves have blown : 
The star to dust has crumbled — 

Hushed is the swan's sad moan. 



Night lay upon my eyelids, 

Upon my lips lay lead ; 
With silent heart and pulses 

I slumbered cold and dead. 

How long I lay, I know not, 
Asleep there in the gloom — 

Sudden I heard, awaking, 
A knocking at my tomb. 

"Wilt thou not rouse thee, Heinrich? 

The endless day draws near ; 
The dead are all awaking — 

The endless joy is here/" 



§etnrid? §eute. 



Sfteht Steb, tcfy farm mdfyt aufftefy'rt, 
93tn \a nod) tmmer bltnb ; 

2) ur(fy SBetnen metne 2lugen 
©anjltdfy erlofc^ert ftnb. 

id ill btr fitffen, §etnrttf>, 
3Som 2luge fort bte 9?acfyt; 

3) te Sngel fotlft bu fcfyauen, 
Unb audj be$ £>tmmel$ ^ratfyt." 

SRctn 2tef>, tdj lann ntcfyt aufftefy'n, 
Sftodj MutetfS tmmerfort, 
2Bo bu tn'S $erj mtd^ ftac^eft 
Wit eincm ftn^'gen 933ort- 

f; ©anj letfe leg 7 tcfy, $etnrtdj, 
35tr metne £>anb aufS §erj; 
®amt tmrb e$ ntc^t mefyr Muten, 
©efyetlt tft all fetn ©cftmerj." 



HEINRICH HEINE, 



I cannot come, my dear one ! 

I can no longer see ; 
My eyes, through bitter weeping, 

Are blind eternally. 

" Ah ! from thine eyelids, Heinrich, 

I will kiss off the night ; 
And thou shalt see the angels 

And heaven's glorious light." 

I cannot come, my dear one ! 

The wound is bleeding still, 
Where in my heart thou stab'st me 

With a word's keen-edged thrill. 

"But gently lay I, Heinrich, 
My hand upon thy heart, 

And it will cease its bleeding — 
Healed will be all its smart." 



§einrtcfy §eme. 



Sftein Steb, tdj fcmn mcfyt cmffteljn, 
(S3 blntet audj mem §aupt; 
£>ab' ja fytnetngefdjofjen, 
21(3 bu mtr tunrbeft geraubt. 

„W\t meinen Soden, §etnrtd), 
©topf td> be3 £aupte$ 2Sunb , / 
Unb brang' juriicf ben 23(utftrom, 
Unb madje betn £>aupt gefunb." 

®$ bat fo fanft, fo lieblid), 
3d) fonnf ntdfyt tmberftefyn; 
3d) toollte mid) erfyeben, 
Unb ju ber Siebften gefy'n. 

3)a brazen cmf tie SEBunben, 
3)a fturjf mtt tmlber Sttad&t 
2Iu$ Sopf nnb 33ruft ber 33Intftrom, 
Unb fief)' ! — id) bin ertoadjt. 



HEINRICH HEINE, 



I cannot come, my dear one ! 

My brain is bleeding too ; 
When thou wert stolen from me, 

I pierced it through and through. 

" See ! with my locks, dear Heinrich, 
I staunch thy wounded brain, 

And stop the flowing blood-stream, 
And make it whole again." 

With love she spoke — no longer 

Could I insensate lie ! 
I must arise, and swiftly 

Unto my dear one fly. 

Then all my wounds fresh-opened ! 

And then with might flowed fast 
From breast and brain the blood-stream, 
,And see ! — I wake at last ! 



§einrtdj §etnc. 



3)er 2)o^eIgnnger. 
Still ift bie Wafyt, eg ruljen bie ®affen, 
$n biefem £>aufe toofynte tnctn @cfya£; 
@tc fyat fdfyott langft bte @tabt uerlaffen, 

2) od) \tzi)t nocfy ba3 §aug auf bemfelben ^(a§. 

3)a ftefyt audfy em 2ftenfcf>, unb ftarrt in bie §ofye, 
Unb ringt bie §anbe t>or ©djmerjenSgeroatt; 
9J?ir grauft e$, toenn tdj fettt 21ntltfc fe^e — 
®er SJfonb jeigt mir meine eig'ne ©eftalt. 

®u 3)eppelganger, bu bleicfyer ©efelle! 
28a$ affft bu nad) mein StebeSletb, 

3) a3 mid) gequalt auf biefer ©telle 
@o mancbe Sftadjt, in alter $eit ? 



23ergftimme. 

Sin better burdfy ba§ 23ergtfyal jieljt, 
• 3m traurig, ftitlen £rab ; 



HEINRICH HEINE. 



THE SPECTRE. 

Still is the night ; the street at rest — 
And in this house once dwelt my love ! 

Long since she left the city blest, 

Yet stands the house — nor thinks to move ! 

Wringing his hands in bitterest pain, 
A man walks by with lingering pace ; 

And when the moon-beams shine again, 

They show me — help me, God ! — my face !. 

Oh ! spectre-self! Oh ! death-in-man ! 

Why wand rest thou with sobs and tears 
About the spot, once wont to scan 

My agony, in by-gone years ! 

THE ECHO. 

With lingering pace there sadly rode 
Through the valley a horseman brave ; 



§eturicfy ©cine. 



„9lcfy! jtelj' ity je£t tocty in SiebdfyenS 2lrm, 
Dfcer jief)' id) in'* bwtfle ©rab ?" 
®te 33ergftimm ? Slntroort gab: 

„3n'8 bwtfle ©rab!" 

Unb tDctter rettet bet 9?eiter$mann, 
Unb fenfjet fitter baju; 

„@o jiefy' icfy benn fyin tn'S ©rab fo friify — 
2BofyIan, im ©rab tft 
£)ie ©ttmme tyrad? bajn: 

„3m ©rab tft Stay!- 

3)em 9?etter$mann etne £fyrane rottt 
93on ber 2Bange fummer&oH; 

„Unb tft nur tm ©rabe bie 9iufye fiir mid), 
©o tft mtr tm ©rabe toofyt. " 
©te ©timme ertmbert ^o^I: 

,3m ©rabe toofyl!" 



HEINRICH HEINE. 



97 



li Ah ! ride I now to my darling's arms, 
Or unto the cold dark grave ? " 
The echo answer gave : 
' ' The cold dark grave ! n 

And further still the horseman rode, 

And wildly heaved his breast ; 
c< Then, since I must ride to my grave, I ride 

Right gladly, for there is rest." 

The echo soft confessed : 

k ' For there is rest ! " 

A tear dropped from the rider's eye, 

Upon his cheek it fell ; 
" Since but in the grave is rest for me, 

For me, then, the grave is well." 

Loud did the echo swell : 

''The grave is well ! " 
7 



^albert turn €l)amt|fo. 



i 

@$ ftefy'n in unferm ©arten 
®er bliifyenben 9?ofen genung, 

2) ir bliifyt, nocfy f djoner at$ 9?ofen, 
Sin 9ttagblein fo frifdj unb )o jung. 

3d} fyabe ntit gteifj getttafytet 
£)ie fdjbnften 9?ofen jum ©trauf;, — 

3) u fiiffcft bic rofigen Sippen, 
Unb lacfyft am Snbe micfy au$ ! 

ii 

3fcfen in bent SDiaien, 

Unb ber i'iebe gcft ! 
©cfyroalben unb bie Sieben, 

93anen fid) ifyr 9?eft. 



ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO. 



WEDDING SONGS. 
I 

Red grown within the garden, 
Roses are blossoming rare, 

But dearer to thee than the roses 
Is the maiden so fresh and so fair. 

The loveliest rose I have gathered 
In a nosegay to hold the first place, 

But thou, on rose-lips a kiss leaving, 
Dost happily laugh in my face. 

ii 

O ye fair May roses ! 

And love's merry feast ! 
Swallows young, and lovers, 

Build for them a nest. 



Slbctl&ert toon (Sfyatniffo. 

SDtatenrofen, Steber, 
(Scfytoalben, iHebe gar ! 

Unb id) toerbe toieber 
3ung tm grauen §aar. 



ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO. 



IOI 



Rose of May, songs singing, 
Swallows — love — for aye ! 

And my youth's returning, 
Though my hair is gray ! 



liobert licinick. 



Kuriofe ©cfd)td)te* 

3d) bin einmal ettoaS fjinan^fpajiert, 
©a ift mir em narrifdfy ®ing paffirt; 
3$ falj einen Sager am SBaloeSfyang, 
9?ttt anf nnb nieber ben @ee enttang ; 
SStel £irfdje fprangen am 2Bege bidfyt; 
2Ba3 fyat ber 3ager? — (£r fcf>o§ fie ntd^t, 
Sr blie§ ein Sieb in ben SBalb fyinein — 
9?un fagt mtr, ifyr 8euf, toa$ foil ba$ fein? 

Unb at$ idfy toeiter bin fortfyajiert, 
3ft roieber ein narrifcfy 3)ing mir paffirt; 
3m f (etnen Safyn eine gifdfyerin 
gufyr ftetS am 2Batbe$ljange bafytn; 
9ftng$ fprangen bie gifcfylein im 2lbenbtidjt; 
2Ba$ tfyat ba$ 9Jfabcf)en? @ie ftng fte nicfyt, 
@ie fang ein Sieb in ben 2BaIb tyinein — 
9?wt fagt mir, ifyr Sent', toa$ foil ba$ fein? 



ROBERT REIXICK. 



A CURIOUS STORY. 

I once went sauntering leisurely, 

And the strangest thing I chanced to see — 

A hunter I spied on the forest-ledge, 

Riding along the lakelet's edge ; 

The stags did near him spring and run — 

And the gallant hunter? He shot not one ! 

He threw a song in the forest-dell — 

What meant it all ? Now, who can tell? 

And as I strolled still further past, 

I saw a stranger thing than the last ; 

In a little boat a fisher-maid 

Rowed swiftly into the forest shade ; 

The fish sprang round 'neath the setting sun — 

And the fisher-maiden ? She caught not one ! 

She sang a song in the forest-dell — 

What meant it all ? Now, who can tell ? 



104 



Robert $fteintcf. 



Unb al$ tcfy toieber jurMfyctjiert, 
©a ift mtr ba$ narrifcfyfte Ding paffirt; 
(Sin leered ^Sferb tnir entgegenfam, 
3m @ee ein leerer S^ac^ett fd)toamm; 
Unb alS id? ging an ben (Srlen ttorki, 
2Ba$ fyorf id) brinncn ? ®a pfierten jtoei, 
Unb '$ toar fd)on fyat, unb SJionbenfcfyein — 
9?un fagt mir, ifyr Seut', n>a$ foil ba$ fein? 



ROBERT REIXICK. K < 

And as I still wandered, in wonder's thrall, 

I saw the most curious thing of all ; 

Toward me a riderless steed advanced. 

And past on the lake an empty skiff glanced ; 

And as I drew near to the alder-tree, 

What heard I ? Two voices came whisp ring to me ! 

Twas evening late, and moonlight as well — 

What meant it all ? Now, who can tell ? 



^enftor Bower. 



©tfinbrfjou 

SffleS totegt bie [title S^ac^t 

Xtef in fiigen 8 glummer, 
yiux ber Stebe ©efynfudjt toac^t 

Unb ber Siebe Summer. 
SDiicfy umfdjteidjen banbenfrei 

Iftad&tltdje ©efyenfter, 
3)ocfy id) fjarre ftitt unb treu 

Unter beinem genfter. 

§oIbe3 SDiabdjen, fyorft bu mid) ? 

SBttlft bu langer faumen ? 
Dfcer toiegt ber ©drummer btdb 

@d)on in fiiften £raumen ? 
9?ein, bu bift gemig nodj toad); 

©inter genfterS ©ittern 
©elj 5 id) |a fan @d)tafgemad) 

Sfod) ba$ ^ampdjen jittern. 



THEODORE KORNER. 



SERENADE. 

Night in her still cradle shakes 

All to sweetest sleeping, 
Only love with longing wakes, 

Silent vigil keeping. 
Through the night, below — abo 1 

Ghostly phantoms hover ; 
Hushed and true I tarry, love, 

'Neath thy window's cover. 

Fairest maiden, hearest thou ? 

Timid art thou staying ? 
Or by slumber cradled now, 

In sweet dreams art swaying ? 
No — I feel thou wakest yet ; 

Through the latticed casing 
See I, when thy lamp is set, 

Bright rays interlacing. 



£fyeobor Corner. 



21(f) fo blicfe, fiigeS ftnb, 

2lu$ bem genfter nteber; 
Seife, hrie bcr SIbenbnnnb, 

gliiftern mehte Steber. 
©odfy fcerftanbltefy foHcn fie 

Sfteuic ©eljnfudjt flagen, 
Unb mit janfter £>armome 

2)tr, „%&i Itebc, /J fagen. 

2Ba§ bte treue Stebe fprtcbt, 

2Btrb bte Stebe fyoren! 
2lber langer barf tcfy ntdjt 

2)ehte ^iulje florett. 
Scfytummre bt$ ber Xag ertoadjt 

3n bem barmen ©tiibcfyen. 
©rum, fetnS Stebdfyert, gute 9?ad)t! 

©ute 9?a$t, fem$ Stebrfjen! 



THEODORE KORNER. 

Ah ! look forth, my love ! Be kind, 

Wide the window flinging ! 
Gently, like the even-wind, 

Trembles forth my singing. 
Understood the lay shall be, 

Of the longing lisper, 
And, with rarest harmony, 

Shall "I love thee " whisper. 

Love will hear what love doth say — 

Needs it no attesting ! 
But I may no longer stay, 

To disturb thy resting. 
Sleep until the day's warm light 

In thy room shines clearest ! 
Now, my dearest one, good-night ! 

And good-night, my dearest ! 



